


Negative Energy

by xeadasreign



Category: Winx Club
Genre: 3.15 divergent, Drama, F/M, Jealousy, Jealousy Kink, Revenge, Romance, Season/Series 03, Valcy, aka I fixed the bullshit in 3.15, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 21:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18646546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeadasreign/pseuds/xeadasreign
Summary: REUPLOAD. He had never been trying topickanybody! There had never been a choice to make! He had known who he wanted from the moment she freed him; all of this had just been him being an idiot! / aka I fixed the bullshit in 3.15. Valcy.





	Negative Energy

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES FROM MARCH 16, 2019 UPLOAD:
> 
> Hello and thank you for clicking on this story! This idea has been inside my head for over a year now; it was inspired by a conversation I had with an Icy RP blog on Tumblr, **thewitchofice**.
> 
> It seems the more time goes on, the more Valcy ideas I get. Here’s to hoping I keep getting them written and published! I also have to say writing this piece was a totally different experience for me. I am used to sitting down and tirelessly working on a fic for a few days until it’s done. I started this fic in mid-February and now here we are in mid-March. *exploding head emoji*
> 
> I dedicate this fic to my friend **SnowyWhisper** who posts Valcy content a lot quicker than I do and has been eagerly awaiting this fic for a long time. :D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are greatly appreciated.
> 
> **Usual Disclaimer:** I am a seasons 1-3 only gal. My writing reflects as much.

The walls of Cloud Tower seemed to shrink back as Icy led herself and Stormy through the winding halls. Apparently even the castle could feel her rage, though the man who had caused it was too busy harmonizing in the land of _inner peace and tranquility_ to give a fuck.

She could not remember ever being so angry in her life. She rounded a corner and growled in frustration, knowing that was insane on principle. Even Stormy, who was surely at least _offended_ , seemed tame compared to her. And though the witch of storms could be thoughtless at times, she was all too aware of the dire situation that was her coven leader’s current emotional state; she was acting with caution.

Logically, Icy knew she had been angrier before. For example, Bloom showing up out of _fucking nowhere_ with another source of the Dragon Fire and defeating her when she was within an inch of conquering all of Magix. That had been infuriating. Or Darkar banishing her and her sisters from his presence after they had run around for an _entire fucking year_ obtaining the pieces of his precious Codex to open the gate to Realix, all for him to replace them with a gothed-out zombified version of _Bloom_. On principle, Icy knew it did not get worse than those two events in her life.

And yet, neither of those occasions had struck such a nerve with her pride like the incident from just a few minutes ago.

“Icy…?” Stormy tentatively spoke as they approached Icy’s room.

“HOW _DARE_ HE?!” she finally screamed. She couldn’t care less if he heard, though she was sure he wouldn’t. And Darcy… Darcy was in La La Land herself.

A portrait hanging on the wall froze over and exploded. Stormy flinched. Icy reluctantly flicked her eyes toward the scattered ice shards. Uncontrolled magic from a witch of her caliber? _Awesome._

“We are getting out of here,” she announced all of a sudden. She couldn’t stay in this place another minute. If she did, it would collapse around them in what would appear to be the remains of a fallen winter wonderland.

“And going where?” Stormy ventured to ask. She stopped in Icy’s doorway as her sister stormed in… and halted in front of her mirror. When she saw herself, she physically shook with rage, her blue magic outlining her rigid frame, her fingernails cutting into her palms, not providing nearly the level of pain she needed to balance this out. Small ice crystals wove their way up, up, up the mirror.

“ _Out_ , Stormy! To Magix, to Ryhala, I don’t give a _fuck_!” When the glass was entirely frozen, Icy smashed the side of her fist against it and it shattered. “All I know is if I stay in this _damned_ castle for one more second, _someone_ is not getting out alive.”

It wasn’t an empty threat, either. There were zombified junior and senior girls mulling the halls and the cafeteria, girls who had been freshmen and sophomores when Icy and her sisters attended Cloud Tower. Girls they had humiliated and picked on for one reason or another, or for no reason at all. Icy doubted anyone would miss them if she turned them into ice sculptures or went old-fashioned and scratched out their throats.

“Go to your room and get changed,” she said more quietly and through her teeth. “I’m over this _fucking_ prison.”

Stormy nodded and scurried off to do as she’d been told.

Icy, however, stood stock still and continued her internal rant. Honestly, _honestly_ , how dare he? What coked-up shit was he on that he seriously thought _that_ would be an intelligent move? Surely _meditating_ for a few Dragon-forsaken hours couldn’t have stolen  _that_ many of his brain cells.

And why? What was the purpose of treating her like this, in such a demeaning, disrespectful way? She had quite literally released him from his life sentence! Given, it hadn’t been with the intention of freeing him, but with the intention of handing him over as snake food so she and her coven would be free to go. And yet, not thirty minutes later, she had made him her ally, impressing him with her idea of how to break the seal to the Omega gate. _I like your style_  had been his exact words. She scoffed disdainfully as she stormed over to her closet to select something, _anything else_ to wear. Apparently he didn’t like her style all that much if he would humiliate her by putting her in a fucking sunshine pixie poncho and rain booties _. Honestly!_

She flicked through hanger after hanger, all without ever really seeing the clothing she was passing up. In her mind’s eye, she saw that fucking _bracelet_ he’d given Darcy. She ground her teeth together and reigned in her control as she felt her palms starting to grow colder, the hangers beginning to frost up. She was still furious, but the worst of it—the most violent of it—was passing. Her ability to think was returning. She was starting to remember why she _didn’t_ want to freeze all the outfits she owned.

The last time a man had given all three of them gifts was when Darkar broke them out of Light Rock. He had given them strengthening jewelry, and though they'd all received a piece, hers had been special. Wrap-around bracelets for Darcy and Stormy; a necklace for Icy. Of course, in the end, it turned out to mean nothing; Darkar had given her the best gift only to physically throw her into the ground and banish her from the Under Realm, but—

_Wait._

Something in Icy righted itself. The part of her brain that made her a leader, the part that crafted plan after plan after plan by utilizing details she’d picked up on while observing her enemies or analyzing their personalities for weak spots kicked on.

The compliment Valtor had given her on Omega had been said in a one-on-one conversation. Darcy and Stormy had been there, yes, but not within earshot; they had been all the way on the other side of the gate. Or at least they were once he made it a point to hop away from them and drift over toward her so he could speak to her personally. They hadn’t heard, nor were they meant to; his praise was sincere.

When he’d given Stormy her new power, however, he’d made it into a big show in the presence of Icy and Darcy. After, Icy had followed Stormy to Lynphea to do exactly as Valtor had “asked” of them all. She recalled the primal disease she’d felt, a pit sensation alerting her that someone was spying on them. When Darcy showed up forty minutes later, she’d assumed it had been her psychic sister all along. Now, however, she realized just how big a gap there’d been between the first time she had that awareness and the point at which Darcy actually arrived.

Interesting, considering shortly after the Lynphea incident, Valtor had (once again: in front of Icy and Darcy) put Stormy under a kindness spell and called her weak.

And then today. _Today._ If his attentions to Stormy had been a show, his attentions to Darcy were the fucking grand finale. Telling her she _really got him_ when Icy was sitting right there (this wasn’t for Stormy’s benefit; he was evidently unimpressed with her by this point), returning from the meditation realm with those gifts… Even his _present_ to Darcy was about Icy—a way to ward off her “negative energy”! So changing her clothes was, what, just to piss her off further? To _prove_ how negative her energy was?

 _To make you jealous_ , her brain corrected.

Icy leaned back against the side of her closet. The gears in her brain shifted as she began processing a whole new set of thoughts and emotions.

First and foremost, she was relieved. Valtor didn’t like Darcy; he liked _her_. The universe suddenly made sense again.

Second, she recalled the time back in their school years when Darcy had binge-watched some wretched Earth show called _The Vampire Diaries_ for her paper about why Earth should be the new gate to Limbo. In one episode, the blonde goodie-goodie character who reminded Icy _way_ too much of Stella remarked to her centuries-old suitor, “Okay, I don’t know if this is some new way of flirting, but it _sucks_.” _Ditto, Vampire Barbie_ , Icy thought now.

Third, she found herself teeming with inspiration. She was inspired to avenge the emotional hell Valtor had put her through these past few weeks. She was inspired to teach him a lesson about how this century’s man did _not_ get in this century’s woman’s good graces. And she was inspired to do what she did best but hadn't done in far too long: win.

* * *

He managed to ignore her tantrum until she shook the entire fucking castle.

Valtor’s eyes reluctantly popped open as he fell onto the floor, his calming reverie instantly evaporating. Okay, now she was starting to annoy him for real. He had known his little stunt would piss her off—he may have had the worst jealousy kink ever, and Icy may have been way too hot when she was mad at him—but he figured she would do as she always did and try to play it cool. Causing the whole structure to tremble? That seemed much more like Stormy. But Stormy had actually seemed very subdued compared to her leader, and Icy was the one who’d been screaming, so he could only assume this was her doing.

He grumbled and got to his feet. “This is ridiculous…” He started for the door, clearly on a mission.

Darcy had been sitting in a chair a few feet away, admiring her handiwork—it wasn’t every day she turned a powerful wizard into a wannabe monk—but now her eyes widened and she quickly stood. “Don’t let her unnerve you,” she implored. “I can talk to her; you stay here and—”

“No, I’m going to say something,” he insisted without sparing her a backward glance, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Icy!” he called as he stalked through the halls. It had been a joke, his commentary about her “negative energy,” but right about now… Apparently, he needed to have a talk with his favorite ice witch about the fact they were all working toward the same goal, and if she continued to disrupt his concentration, he wasn’t going to be able to do his part in achieving said goal to the best of his abilities.

“Ic—”

And he was going to do that, really he was. Until he arrived in her doorway.

The door was open and she was standing in front of her mirror… in her bra and underwear. The poncho and rain booties he had gifted her were burning in a discarded heap on the carpet. She didn’t flinch or give any indication she knew he was standing there at all.

Somewhere deep down, he probably knew this was invasive, that he should turn away and come back later. But if “somewhere deep down” knew anything, it was being muffled by the fact his brain had completely stopped working.

To say she looked good would be the understatement of the year. Of course she was beautiful; that much had been obvious from the moment she stepped in front of his ice pod. It had seemed unreal that after all those years in solitary, his salvation came in the form of the most impeccable creature to ever grace the universe. But standing there now…

He hadn’t known a woman could be so perfect. She had, quite literally, no physical flaws: gorgeous face, crystalline eyes, luscious hair, porcelain skin… She was so lithe, she could not have weighed more than one hundred pounds, if that. She always wore tall boots, but now she stood barefoot, revealing a light blue pedicure and a tattoo of sorts on her ankle. He recognized the thin band of tiny black foreign symbols immediately: it was the mark every Whisperian Coven leader received when she bound her coven.

And her _naval piercing_. Dear Dragon. On more than one occasion had he been working out the logistics of a plan all to get distracted by fantasies involving the little gem resting in her belly button. It was sexy in an understated way, not even meant to be tempting, and yet…

She snapped her fingers and a dress levitated over from the closet. Instead of casting a spell, she discarded the hanger and took her good old time changing into the outfit: she raised her arms high, lifted the fabric over her head, causing her lean torso to stretch and her breasts to rise. Then she pulled the dress down over her body, checking herself out in the mirror to see where she needed to adjust the fabric. It was perfect on her: short and gray and just revealing enough to be sexy but still classy.

Another snap of her fingers and a pair of matching heels appeared near her feet. She stepped into them and adjusted the straps without a care in the world. One final hair and makeup check in the mirror and she was done.

She whirled around, grabbed her purse, and marched toward the door. Her expression didn’t change when she saw him; in fact, it didn’t appear she saw him at all. Instead, she looked right _through_ him as she hollered “STORMY, LET’S GO!” and made her exit.

Somewhere down the hall, the witch of storms replied that she was ready. Valtor felt the air shift as the two magically transported themselves out of the castle. And then he stood there for some indefinable amount of time, overcome with the most bizarre combination of arousal and a deep-seated gnawing in his gut that told him he’d made a big, _big_ mistake.

* * *

“ _Now_ will you tell me why I blew up the entire west wing?” was Stormy’s first question when they arrived in the Dark Forest.

Once Icy had worked through her revelation, she’d taken a good minute to craft the perfect plan.

Step One: Repair her room of any and all damage.

Step Two: Have Stormy cause a disruption so obnoxious Valtor would _have_ to intervene.

Step Three: Look as disinterested as she had during the Battle of Magix and pretend not to notice as he gawked and hated himself.

Icy shushed her and kept walking until they reached the exact location she’d set out for. It was a clearing toward the heart of the woods with a triangle drawn in the center, although no one except for the two of them and Darcy could see the shape. No animals were nearby; instead, all frolicking creatures made a distinct effort to avoid the ominous epicenter of dark energy.

This was where they’d bound their coven five years ago.

Not once had the girls specifically returned to this site for any purpose. Realizing the severity of the situation, Stormy abandoned her usual practice of whining when Icy wouldn’t tell her something. Instead, she tentatively asked, “What are we doing here?”

Icy sat down exactly where she had all those years ago, at the top point of the triangle, and placed her palms on the ground. She closed her eyes and focused all her power on invoking the archaic magic they’d called upon in their ritual. Once she made a connection, she concentrated on exerting her will into existence until a barrier started to take shape around herself and her youngest coven sister.

When the misty blue shield solidified, Stormy asked again: “Icy, what is going on?”

“I’m making sure Valtor can’t spy on us, you know, like he did before we ran off to Lynphea,” the ice queen explained bitterly. She pointed to the spot Stormy had taken to her right the day they stopped being three solo witches and became a coven bound by blood oath and the darkest, most ancient magic in the universe. “Sit.”

Icy knew this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation. She had thought about this on the way here: if she really wanted to, she could make this into a Her vs. Darcy and Stormy thing. She could continue on the path which Valtor had set them, trick both her sisters into looking bad while she alone came out victorious. And because they weren’t the fragile Winx girls but _witches_ who respected deceit and witchy underhandedness, they would concede to defeat, begrudgingly congratulate her, and get over it.

But Icy didn’t just want their respect.

Once Stormy was situated and practically bursting with curiosity, Icy spoke.

“I need to tell you something, and I need you to hear me when I say it.”

The younger woman blinked her turquoise eyes once. The uncharacteristic _request_ that she listen to her leader made this all the more foreboding. “Of course,” she said quietly.

“Valtor never liked you, and he doesn’t like Darcy. He likes me, and he’s trying to make me jealous.”

It should’ve been a plus that Stormy didn’t immediately roll her eyes or deny she even liked the wizard anymore, but the way she sat in silence and let her eyes drift to the side was unsettling in its own way. Icy didn’t know how to read that, not from Stormy.

When it finally seemed like she was about to respond, Icy leaned forward and took her hands in her own. “We are best when you trust me,” she interjected intensely, staring her sister down.

She might’ve said more, but the weather witch returned her gaze and flatly said, “I know.”

“That is the only way for a coven to operate, and—”

“Hey, wiatch!” Stormy gave Icy’s cold hands a squeeze. “I said I know.”

“Oh.” Now it was the ice witch’s turn to blink. “Wait, back up: you know he’s just trying to make me jealous, or you know we’re best when you trust me?”

Stormy inhaled and said, “The first part, but…” Here she peeked up at her from beneath her lashes. “The second part, too.” When Icy still looked confused, she lightly teased, “Why do you think I said I was over him? Believe it or not, I have more self-respect than to chase after a guy who only really wants _you_.”

“Stormy, you become more and more of a true witch every day.”

The girls smiled at each other for a moment that was nowhere near long enough—it felt so good to _smile_ with her sister again—but now was not the time for bonding; there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, Icy needed to get through the hardest part of this conversation.

“Okay, hold on, there’s more.” It was dreadful to say this out loud, but it had to be done if the rest of her plan were to come to fruition. “Despite his infuriating tendencies… I… might… like him back.”

Now Stormy held her hands out and made a face like she was offended. “I know! I _do_ notice things, you know.”

Icy tried (and failed) to bite back a grin. Stormy’s strong suit was brute force, not her observational skills. But the last thing Icy was going to do right now was fight with her—about that or anything else.

“I have a plan to fix this whole mess, and it requires all three of us working together. He hasn’t seen us at our best; if he had, this situation neeever would’ve happened in the first place.”

Stormy scoffed. “You can say that again…”

Icy knew exactly what she was thinking, and she agreed: they should never have let it get to this point.

“But I’m gonna fix it,” she reiterated, placing a hand on Stormy’s leg. “And when I’m done, Valtor will be sorry he treated us with anything but the utmost respect. I promise you.” She waited a moment to allow her words to sink in. Then she sat up straight and said, “So. You game to teach the bastard a lesson?”

Stormy raised her eyebrows. “ _I_ am, but Darcy will be more difficult. She’s boy-crazy as it is; factor in the bracelet thing, and she thinks he likes her for real.”

“Oh, I know.” Icy smirked and leaned back on her hands, emanating self-satisfaction. “I know she’ll have to figure this one out on her own.” She drummed her nails on the forest floor, causing the barrier around them to buzz and flicker with energy. “Which is exactly what she’s going to do for the next several hours…”

And then, privacy secured by the magic of their ancestors, she divulged her plan in its entirety.

When she was finished, Stormy could only shake her head in awe. “You’re brilliant.”

Icy hummed, pleased with her reaction. “Come on,” she said, standing and holding out a hand to help her sister to her feet. Together, they walked through the barrier, absorbing the spell and its conciliatory properties. "Time to get started on Phase Two..."

As they headed toward their next location, Icy thought about how novel this situation truly was. There was a person in existence who believed she liked him enough that he could make her jealous. There was a person in existence who was so sure she, Queen of Cold-Heartedness, liked him enough that he could play head games and she would just deal with it. Well, Icy knew someone who had never taken her attention for granted, someone who understood how easy it was to disappoint her and would never overestimate her feelings for him. And if that certain someone had become exactly what she’d predicted—a nobody who never saw outside the realm of Magix—well…

Icy’s problems were solved.

And Valtor’s were just beginning.

* * *

Valtor was, to put it lightly, not having a fun time.

Icy had left with Stormy three hours ago. For three hours, he had been pacing about the Cloud Tower castle, experiencing the most unpleasant ordeal of his life—and that included his seventeen-year incarceration in Omega.

The irony was not lost on him that a few short hours ago he had cleared his mind so entirely he’d been able to float about the realm of Ohm like he owned the place, and now here he was, experiencing mental turmoil on top of mental turmoil.

Most prominently, he was worried. He had never known Icy to leave home base for more than two hours at a time unless she was embarking on a mission, and even then, she was with her entire coven. He had known his “gifts” would cause strife among the group, but that was the joke of it all—Icy being annoyed with Darcy was more negative energy. It concerned him that she would leave without her obvious right hand.

More than that: most of the Winx girls had their Exnchantix, and they were still mourning the loss of their friend. Stormy was a loose canon as it was, and when Icy was looking for a fight, she’d find one. What if the two had sought out the fairies and the ensuing battle hadn’t gone in their favor?

It was that fear that made him crack: he decided to use Griffin’s-turned-his crystal ball to find them. He paid no mind to a clearly disconcerted Darcy when he returned to the office, ignored her retort of “Well someone clearly forgot his meditation…” and made a beeline for the desk. But his fear only grew stronger when he found his magic was blocked; the crystal ball only showed static.

“Darcy, use your psychic abilities to locate your sisters,” he commanded.

She leveled a look of disgust at him, he assumed for blatantly telling her what to do. He couldn’t be bothered to care. She closed her eyes for a few moments, her aura glowing purple. Then her incantation stopped. She opened her eyes and parted her lips on a gasp but said nothing.

“What?” he asked urgently. “What is it?”

She slowly shook her head. “I can’t find them.”

But she wasn’t looking him in the eye.

“What aren’t you saying?” he pressed.

 _Now_ she met his eyes and glared at him. “Nothing. I just can’t find them. ‘Kay?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, crossed her arms, and returned to her seat. Clearly, she was done interacting.

He didn’t want to drop it. The look on her face told him she knew more than she was letting on. He wanted to accuse her of lying. He wanted to accuse her of just not wanting to go and retrieve her sisters. But considering he had perpetuated this whole competitive environment with his own dumb actions, he decided against that. Instead, he shut his mouth, walked out the door, and returned to wandering the castle.

It was about twenty minutes into pondering what Darcy wasn’t telling him that it occurred to him maybe she could sense her coven leader wasn’t coming back, period. And that, Valtor was averse to admit, was the most horrible thing he had ever contemplated in his life.

It wouldn’t be the first time a woman he cared for deeply had abandoned him, although Griffin’s reasons had had nothing to do with pride and everything to do with switching her residence to the inside of Faragonda’s ass. And her own cowardice, although he supposed one could argue Faragonda had implanted that, as well. (His smile was unbidden as he thought, sure and true, _Icy would sooner die than join the Light._ ) On more than one occasion during his time as an ice sculpture had he run through memory after memory of their final moments together in the weeks leading up to her betrayal. He never saw it coming. Maybe, in some way he couldn't pinpoint, he was partially to blame for the fact she had been susceptible to Faragonda's moral bullshit in the first place. Privately, in his lowest moments, he wondered: if he had loved Griffin better, if he had been enough, would she have stayed?

But though he and Griffin had actually been in a relationship, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Icy’s departure would hit him much harder. The two women were on completely different levels. Griffin had always been too scared to push back against him and behave the way Icy did. Most people would be. But not Icy. She couldn’t be bothered to care. She loved power, craved it from the bottom of her wretched soul, and that was exactly the reason she had decided to team up with him. But while she wanted the perks he could offer her, he didn’t doubt for a second she would be gone if her pride was too strongly offended, if he went too far.

 _Had_ he gone too far? He wasn’t lying; she looked good in the poncho, horrid as it was. She looked good in anything—and now he knew, with absolute certainty, she also looked good when she wasn’t wearing much of anything. Like he needed clarity on that rather obvious matter…

He shook away the distracting mental images and refocused.

The stubborn part of him wanted to blame her for all of this. Really, he argued, this could all be traced back to the disparaging comment she had made about him on Tides: _Although perhaps Valtor will be different. Nah, eventually he’ll disappoint me. But in the meantime, it could be fun._ That was the respect she was going to show to the person who had helped her escape Omega, enslaved an entire realm, and ruined the Princess Ball of one of her enemies?

And moreover, if that was how she saw their future, he shouldn’t waste his time getting emotionally invested in the nineteen-year-old whose heart was so cold the same spell that had kept _him_ frozen solid for nearly two decades couldn’t hold her for more than three seconds. Right? So it was possible that the mischievous, vengeful, attention-starved portion of his brain had decided it would be a bit of fun to turn it into a game, seeing how much emotion he could bring out of the Ice Queen by flirting with her sisters and pretending he saw any fault at all in her genetic makeup.

And yet, for all the efforts he had put into trying to ignore how he felt about her… In his 53 years of existence, 37 of which he’d _not_ spent in an ice pod, he had never known he could feel such a sting as the moment she looked _through_ him. He knew how wonderful it felt for those gorgeous blue eyes to look at him with admiration, and now he knew how awful it felt to be on the other end of that spectrum. He swore that if he could find a way to make things go back to the former, he would never take her approval for granted again.

 _If_ he could fix this. _If_ he could make it right. Aside from the fact she would first need to return to Cloud Tower for that to happen, Valtor also realized he had no idea how to do that in a way that would neither diminish his own pride nor make him appear lesser in her sight. Witches made really bad girlfriends in part because they were so complicated when it came to stuff like this, but he wanted this witch to be his wife and he was willing to burn in the flames of Ryhala to make it happen.

The most hopeful (desperate) part of him decided to believe this was his punishment. That Icy was only teaching him a lesson for disrespecting her and when she felt he’d suffered enough, she would return. Although… she was the most merciless person he had ever met, so he was unsure of just how long that would be…

No matter. If this was his punishment, he would take it and when she returned home, he would find a way to right his wrongs. He swore it.

But as afternoon crept into evening and evening crept into nightfall and still there was no trace of the ice witch, Valtor felt himself growing sick with worry. Maybe he should’ve left hours ago to search for her. Maybe…

He stopped in his tracks.

Conciliatory spells, along with most temporary spells, needed something to draw on. Large sources of energy could be used, but most commonly, the source was something found in nature. Something like the sun or the moon. She had left during the daytime, so the most obvious tether would be the sun. And if this blocking spell had indeed been cast by drawing on the sun…

Its life force was long gone by now.

Hoping against hope, Valtor doubled it back to Griffin’s-turned-his office. When he pushed through the door, he nearly collided with Darcy.

“You’re in a hurry,” she said in a tone completely inappropriate for the circumstances. Apparently, unlike him, her mood had changed for the better over the past several hours. She didn’t appear to be annoyed with him anymore; instead, she was acting flirty. “What’s the problem?”

“Uh.” He awkwardly tried to maneuver around her, but she followed his movements. He reigned in his irritation and decided to tell her his plan. Hopefully her reaction would help him gauge if his worst fears were true.

When he was done speaking, however, Darcy’s reaction gave nothing away. She nodded slowly and hummed softly…

And then she tried to take off his jacket.

“Um—”

“You know what I think? I think you have run yourself absolutely _ragged_ stressing out about this all day. Why don’t you just relax and I’ll pour us some drinks, yeah?”

Valtor could not believe this situation was actually happening. “I don’t want drinks,” he said in a flat tone, moving his arm to shake her hand away.

Darcy was unperturbed. She blinked at him several times then said, “How ‘bout we just do this instead?”

She closed her eyes and leaned forward with clear intention to kiss him.

He took one big step back and collided with the wall. “Enough of this nonsense!”

Darcy opened her eyes but didn’t seem surprised. “Nonsense? But you picked me, right?”

 _No!_ Valtor shouted in his head. He had never been trying to _pick_ anybody! There had never been a choice to make! He had known who he wanted from the moment she freed him; all of this had just been him being an idiot!

He stepped around her and headed for the crystal ball. “Darcy, can we not do this right now?”

And then, uncharacteristically, she started to yell. “Then when would you like to do it, huh? When Icy comes back so she can watch?”

He closed his eyes in defeat. So his game was found out.

Before the situation could escalate, Darcy’s phone went off with a buzz.

“Is that Icy?” Valtor asked with an urgency that should’ve been more embarrassing than the fact he was so unused to modern day technology he hadn’t once thought to have Darcy send her sister a text. But with all pretense between them shot, he couldn’t find it in him to care how the witch of darkness viewed him for his little outburst.

“Yeah,” Darcy replied, eyebrows crinkling as she unlocked her phone. “But why is she using Snapchat?”

Valtor guessed the question was more to herself than to him. He stalked across the room and stood beside her so he could see. Darcy launched the yellow ghost app and soon enough her messages loaded. “Open it,” he said impatiently.

Darcy rolled her eyes and tapped on the purple square with rounded edges next to Icy’s name.

A video filled the screen. In it, Icy was at a bar. She was wearing the dress she’d put on all those hours ago, smiling and throwing her head back and laughing, holding a drink in her hand and… sitting next to _some guy_.

“Sitting next to” was probably the wrong way to put it. She was practically sitting _on top of him_ in a booth, and—Valtor felt the strong urge to burn everything in sight—from the way he kept checking her out and telling her things made inaudible by the hard rock song playing in the back, he looked like he was enjoying himself way too much.

A thin band of text was positioned toward the bottom of the video. The words “Wickedness, chaos, & mayhem = my favorite drug” followed by the grinning purple devil emoji registered in Valtor’s brain moments before Icy leaned in toward Random Douche, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of her lips, his eyes looking all too hopeful as he followed her movement—

And then the video disappeared.

For a moment, Valtor wondered if he had willed it out of existence. But then Darcy said, “Of course she’d find him…” and that train of thought went out the window.

“Who?” the wizard demanded, mentally going over the guy’s periwinkle suit jacket and short dark hair and stupid _smirk_. He wondered what that smirk would look like after a few hours with the minions on Tides. “Who was that MAN?”

Darcy’s lips imitated a smile even though her eyes were furious and her energy screamed sarcasm. “Name’s Darko. He’s Icy’s old mega rich 29-year-old boyfriend. They had sex a few times, but he bored her and she left.” She tilted her head to an exaggerated degree so her long dark hair followed the motion then condescendingly inquired, “Does that _bother_ you?”

Valtor was right back to being a volcano of mixed emotions.

She was safe. She had not been captured; she was not in trouble. The blocking spell had been her own doing. He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a huge wave of relief at that knowledge.

But nothing else inside of him was positive in any way.

 _Darko._ His name was _Darko_. Seriously, had every male entity she encountered before him had the word “dark” in his name?! Get original, for fuck’s sake! And lounging out in a bar? He hardly thought that seemed like Icy’s scene. She would much prefer a throne that overlooked a realm she’d brought to ruins, no?

And this new bit of information. Icy used to have a boyfriend, but she broke up with him when “he bored her.” And now here she was, playing with him again when someone else pissed her off.

He had tried. He had tried so hard not to love her because he realized so early on she was unobtainable, and he hadn’t wanted this exact situation to happen. He would never be the loser in that video; he had too much pride to just _hang around_ when she decided to grace him with her attentions. But… that little glimmer of hope in him whispered… if her ex bored her, and now she was using the guy to get back at him… didn’t that imply, on some level, she cared?

“Ask when she’s coming home,” Valtor finally managed.

Darcy didn’t even look at him as she complied. He watched over her shoulder as the two witches began to chat back and forth in the Snapchat app.

 **sexiiwiatch:** when r u coming back?

 **IceQueenIcy:** Didn’t realize adults have curfews :/

Valtor’s heart was in his throat as he watched Icy’s message pop up on the screen. She was probably sending this message from _Darko’s_ lap, while _Darko_ probably had his arms around her body… For a moment, his vision flared red.

 **sexiiwiatch:** valtor is asking.

 **IceQueenIcy:** Hoping I’m not at all? Worried I’ll ruin his precious inner peace with all my ~negative energy?

Valtor would have given anything to feel her negative energy right now.

 **sexiiwiatch:** ICY.

 **IceQueenIcy:** Alright Darcy chill. Stormy’ll be home when she’s good and drunk, and right now she’s only drunk. I might not be tbh. Darko offered to let me crash with him for a while. And his parents are scared of me now so they won’t give us any problems:)

Darcy waited until Valtor was done reading then looked up at him with an expression void of any emotion. “Happy?”

Valtor felt like he was going to throw up. Aside from the panic he felt for personal reasons, he was entirely sure Belladonna would rise from the grave and incinerate him if her descendant seriously disbanded her coven over him being an idiot.

“Call her bluff,” he said weakly. And then, too long afterward for it to appear natural, he gave a stiff nod toward the phone.

 **sexiiwiatch:** u can come home u know. if ur worried about unsettling valtor, don’t be. his peace has been gone for a while now.

 **IceQueenIcy:** Please. I know when I’m not wanted. Surely you can find a way to boost your boyfriend’s endorphins, my dear Darcy.

If Valtor had been on the urge of vomiting before, he was really almost there now at the suggestion of sleeping with _Darcy_. It wasn't that he found her unattractive—she looked verbatim like Griffin had when they dated twenty-five years ago, for fuck's sake—it was that she wasn't Icy. It was the prospect of _Darcy_ being his life partner for the rest of time instead of the woman he couldn't bury his feelings for no matter how hard he tried. It was the mere idea of the most charismatic woman he had ever met in his life really settling for shacking up with some rando whose parents apparently didn't like her instead of achieving her destiny as Queen of the Universe alongside him and her coven.

Suddenly, the damned bracelet that had started all this was being shoved in his face. It took a second for his pale eyes to refocus on Darcy’s thin wrist, almost trembling with concealed rage.

“Why did you give me this?” she demanded. Her voice was calm but nonnegotiable.

Valtor had the decency to feel ashamed. “I wanted to thank you for suggesting the realm of Ohm,” he said quietly. Lamely. “It really helped me out.”

“Why did you give it to me in front of her?”

She was not going to let this one go easily. _Rightfully so_ , the voice in the back of his head chided. All the same, if she thought she was getting a full-fledged Red Fountain Boy Scout confession out of him, she was mistaken. “You three tend to be together most of the time—”

“Keep it.” Darcy slipped the bracelet off and carelessly tossed it on his desk. She turned on her heel and sniped over her shoulder, “It clearly doesn’t work, anyway.”

The door echoed when it slammed shut behind her.

* * *

Darcy locked herself in her bedroom and leaned back against the door. A simple incantation had a cigarette from the pack on her bed floating over to her. She lit up and took a slow, long drag of the smoke. The witch of darkness needed a minute to process not only what had just happened, not only what had happened today, but what had been happening since Omega.

She remembered the sinking feeling that had overcome her when Icy decided to take a suggestion from _Stormy_ and free a dude who had been sentenced to eternity in an attempt to offer him up as snake food in their place. When it hadn’t worked, she thought for sure this guy who looked like he belonged three centuries back would try to kill them. But he hadn’t. Instead, her coven leader had charmed the ancient pants off of him.

At first Darcy had thought this was solely a survival strategy. But as time went on, she realized Icy actually liked Valtor. _Icy_ harboring romantic feelings for someone. It wasn’t unheard of, but it was rare. And it wasn’t the same way she had liked guys before. Sure, Darko had been older, too, but all he’d been able to offer her was free drinks. Valtor quite literally seemed to have the keys to the kingdom in the palm of his hand; Icy could see a future with him.

But of course, in true Icy fashion, she had made a prideful remark without bothering to make sure Valtor wasn’t around to hear her. Darcy couldn’t help but smile as she imagined Icy’s response if she were to bring that incident up now: _Is it prideful if I was right?_

Darcy shook her head then tilted it back so she could blow smoke up, up, up at the ceiling. Darko wouldn’t have cared if he’d overheard. He would’ve just tried harder to make sure she was wrong. But Valtor’s pride could rival Icy’s, and that was no small feat.

It was annoying to realize she and Stormy had been nothing more than pawns to make the Queen jealous, but she almost didn’t care when she thought of how awesomely Icy was paying him back. Not just for messing with her, but for messing with all of them.

It had been a shock when Valtor—who was now void of any semblance of the peace and tranquility he’d acquired on his trip to Ohm—asked her to find her sisters and she found she was being blocked by a conciliatory spell made from the same magic they’d used to bind their coven. She would’ve sensed that magic anywhere, and it alarmed her for a hot minute that Icy would invoke it now of all times. She wouldn’t really lock her out of something, would she? They had left Stormy to face the consequences of her cockiness alone the other day with Valtor’s kindness spell and all, but when it was over it, was over; it wasn’t like they had shut her out!

But then, her coven leader wasn’t stupid. Surely Icy knew Valtor would ask Darcy to find them when he failed. Surely she knew Darcy would recognize the magic concealing her and Stormy. So then the question became: what was she supposed to do about that?

She thought critically. The point was to oust Valtor, not her. Therefore, her best guess was she was supposed to lie to Valtor then lie in wait. So that is what she’d done.

But as hour after hour passed by with Valtor memorizing the layout of the school and Darcy sitting still, waiting for something to happen, she started to think more in depth about Icy’s choice of magic. Surely there were other ways she could have kept Valtor in the dark while not doing the same to Darcy. There were dozens of witch spells that wizards could not penetrate, dozens of spells that might’ve left Darcy thinking she _was_ being punished. But Icy had chosen to invoke the same magic they had used to bind their souls and their lives together five years ago.

Darcy had smiled softly to herself, remembering that day all too well. It was the day she found her purpose. It was the day that vague, off feeling she'd experienced all her life—the feeling that told her something was missing—was quieted for good. She'd slashed her palms and mingled her blood with that of the two witches she'd met days before, the two witches she would spend the rest of her life working with to obtain the ultimate power, to bring about evil and destruction to the world around them as they took over realm after realm until the entire universe was theirs. Valtor had claimed to like her inner balance so much; well, she only had it because of her bond with her sisters.

And then she had thought… if Icy would let her know the source of the blockage, but not allow her past the block… then she was supposed to be doing more than just sitting there waiting. Icy wanted her to realize something.

Darcy had sat up straight and looked around the office. What was there to realize?

Her bracelet stared up at her. She studied it… and studied it…

Ten minutes later, she got it.

On several occasions during their school years, Icy and Stormy would leave her alone in their dorm so she could have her way with whatever boy she was currently hooking up with.

This was the first time in history her sisters had left her alone with a guy and _nothing happened._

Surely if Valtor truly favored her like he claimed with his displays of praise and jewelry, he would’ve pounced on this opportunity where her sisters were out and they were alone. Instead, he had asked her to find “them” (which was obviously code for Icy, seeing as he had written Stormy off completely just days ago) and was unsettled when she couldn’t. He had lots to do to advance his plans for inter-realm domination, but instead he was pacing the corridors, agonizing over where the ice witch could possibly be. And it wasn’t like Icy was incompetent; it wasn’t like he could truly think she was in danger.

He was worried she had left _him_.

It was at that point she got it.

“Damn you, Icy, for knowing me so well…” she had muttered, glaring daggers at the now-offensive piece of jewelry around her wrist and extracting her cell phone to compose a text. Stormy had probably believed Icy the moment she told her a guy she was crushing on didn’t really like her, but Icy knew Darcy would have to figure it out herself.

 **Darcy:** message received.

 **Icy:** Wicked. Now sit back and enjoy yourself. The games are just beginning…

And for the rest of the afternoon-turned-evening, that is what Darcy had done. She’d smoked a little, read a little, and tried not to laugh as Valtor got exactly what he deserved. She still felt he should personally pay for playing her— _she_ was always the one to play _men_ , hello—and that was when she’d come up with the “coming onto him” ruse. Never once had she imagined it could be _comical_ , watching a man so desperately try to avoid getting physical with her.

And then Icy’s video Snap. She wasn’t shocked to see Icy had roped Darko into this. He’d written her in Light Rock, some whiny offended bullshit about “if you’d only chosen me” and “I could’ve made you so happy.” Of _course_ he would still fall to his knees before her the moment she showed him one iota of attention. Darcy could only imagine the power trip Icy was getting off of that one. Even better: she could only imagine the power trip Icy would get when she revealed this had all been a big joke at the end of the night, because of course Icy would tell him the truth instead of just ghosting him. She wouldn’t pass up hurting him like that.

Darcy had bitten her tongue to keep from smiling with pride. _This_. This was the woman she had pledged her life to at fourteen. She had missed seeing her in action, and she knew after tonight, that would never be an issue again.

Watching Valtor’s jealousy, and then watching Valtor’s jealousy morph into self-loathing defeated fear, was _delicious_. Not to mention he was so wound up, his Bella dread was palpable to her magic-infused intuition. Served him right.

She put out her cigarette, closed her eyes, and tried to envision her sisters again, tried to reach out to them. The barrier was still there, but this time Darcy used the bond to request entry. A moment passed and then she was in, covered by the spell, too. She pulled herself back to her bedroom, under the assurance Valtor could no longer eavesdrop on her, either, and speed-dialed Icy.

She picked up on the first ring. “Well?”

“He’s losing it,” Darcy gave the affirmative.

Icy’s voice was pleased. “Excellent.”

Darcy leaned against the door and slid down to the floor. She couldn’t keep herself from grinning. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

There was a pause on the other end of the call, and then: “Not in a while, no.”

Darcy’s grin faded. She searched for the right words, but could find none.

Things hadn’t been going so stellar since they were defeated senior year. In no world could Darcy envision Valtor even _trying_ to play the girls against each other had he met them in their prime. Pride or no pride, he wouldn’t have dared to mess with their bond. As it was, he had met them at a time when their bond was apparently so unapparent it didn’t even occur to him Darcy would of course know what magic Icy had used to block him from finding her. _That_ was the real reason they kept losing to the fairies, not some pathetic slutty transformation.

“Yeah,” she finally said. “I guess I haven’t. He actually thinks you’re gonna disband the coven over this.” _Because it is also apparently unapparent the three of us would literally die for each other_ , she added in her head.

Her leader scoffed. “Well if he’s gonna be with me, he rrrrreally needs to know me better than that.”

Darcy found herself smiling again, a soft smile this time. “You really like him, huh?”

Silence greeted her. And then that silence stretched out. She tried not to laugh as she pictured Icy’s face upon hearing that question. She decided to save her from coming up with a response.

“By all means, his three-timing player ass is yours. Honestly, Icy, I date _down_ and don’t get these kinds of head games.”

Her confident, self-assured leader was back. "Not to worry. By the end of the night, that will no longer be an issue. Is our old dorm still closed off?"

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. Griffin’s so paranoid she just threw yellow magi-tape over it instead of clearing it out… Why do you ask?”

“ _That_ is where the grand finale of my little show is going down.”

Darcy’s mouth opened and closed. “The lair?”

“The lair.”

“You’re brilliant.”

She could feel Icy’s grin through the phone. “And don’t you forget it, wiatch!”

Darcy mirrored her grin. With all the insanity of the day, she hadn’t even noticed how much her own sense of balance had been upended. But now she could literally feel it righting itself inside of her. Being in harmony with her coven was the true key to balance for her—for all of them. She also felt a rush of excitement coursing through her veins: if Icy was using the lair to finish putting Valtor in his place, she couldn’t wait to see what lied ahead for their coven. Ruling over all the realms, all three of them thriving in their roles, being on the same page again… She was ready.

“I gotta go.” Her leader made her voice falsely sweet and added, “Darko’s waiting on me to come back to our table.”

“No fair,” Darcy pouted. “How come Stormy gets to watch you break his heart all over again and I don’t?”

Icy chuckled. “See you soon, D.”

* * *

Valtor was used to staying up while the rest of the realm slept, but tonight his ever active brain was going to be a death sentence. Somewhere around midnight he had exhausted himself of every possible course of action re: just how one makes amends with a witch with a literal heart of ice. Conclusion: every option was flawed.

Straightforwardly apologizing could make him appear weak. Pretending nothing had happened and reforming his ways from this moment forward was not only sweeping the problem under the rug, but just begging for this entire incident to be used against him in future arguments. Going in on why he was better than her ex-boyfriend would be playing into her hand, not to mention beyond childish. Trying to mind-control her into forgiving him… Well, first of all, he would never disrespect her in that way, but second… a poorly timed surge of arousal had engulfed him here… _it wouldn’t work_. She was way too strong to be susceptible to such nonsense. Confessing his love for her… she would laugh.

And this was all under the assumption she would come back. But as hour after hour ticked by, his heart became less and less convinced that she would.

It was 12:57 AM when he started in on picking apart courses of action for if she _didn’t_ come back—give her a week at her old boyfriend’s place to realize what she’d given up then go find her and extend an olive branch—and it was 1:00 AM on the dot when he felt a change in the Tower’s air pressure.

His heart rate accelerated and he gave pause to listen.

_He could hear her._

He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but he could ever so faintly hear her voice.

In a second, he was out the door. It didn’t take long for him to catch up with Darcy, who was already heading in the direction of the voices. If his brain wasn’t so fried, he might’ve thought it odd, the fact she allowed him to walk beside her as she led the way to wherever they were going. As it was, all he could think about was the fact Icy was back…

 _But what if she brought that_ man _back with her?_

Of all the troubleshooting he had done over the past several hours, _that_ was a problem he hadn’t prepared for. He decided he would have to see what he was dealing with before he could decide how to proceed.

They arrived at an open dorm door with broken yellow magi-tape falling down around it. Darcy walked right through and he followed.

Inside was a three-student dorm larger than any other he had seen in this school. The doors to a walk-in closet were thrown wide open and inside was a passage of sorts. Darcy made a beeline for it like she did this all the time.

Valtor narrowed his eyes. He knew of the _common knowledge_ passageways within the castle, but this? _Why do I get the feeling Griffin doesn’t know about this…_

He took a moment to evaluate his surroundings: he could hear Stormy slurring something from deeper within the passageway, but could sense no lame male presence within the enclosure. He followed the witch of darkness into the closet, and the moment he stepped into the tunnel, he felt the remnants of a lifted cloaking spell.

They didn’t walk for long until they reached what was waiting for them on the other side. And when he saw it, he was slightly slack-jawed.

It was a small room of sorts, almost like an extension of the closet. A thin white carpet covered the floor. Dry-erase and cork boards hung on the walls; pages ripped from spell books and ancient witch books were pinned to the borders or held up by magnets. There was handwriting in the margins, corrections and commentary to the spells, potions, and information adoring the pages. One wall was lined with shelves stocked full of either bottled potions or magical objects ranging from dark artifacts to voodoo dolls. Every corner of the room had a binder stuffed full of pages of _something_. There were loose-leaf pages of notebook paper scattered across the floor, along with some Polaroid pictures…

“What’s all this?” Valtor asked with genuine, light curiosity… and without thinking about it.

It was then, for the first time that night, his eyes landed upon _her_.

Again, he was flooded with relief: Icy was sitting ( _alone_ ) on the carpeted floor, close to the center of the room. She was examining a photograph and smiling in a faint, sentimental manner. He never would’ve guessed she’d spent hours upon hours at a bar just by looking at her. Her hair looked as perfect as it always did, her makeup still precise. She didn’t appear drunk or reek of alcohol, but she did smell like men's cologne.

And it wasn’t his.

A rush of male territorialism invaded his senses, but it was quickly quashed when she flicked her blue eyes up his way. The breath left his lungs as he waited to see what she would do—glare, tell him to fuck off… But she looked _at_ him, not through him, and neutrally replied, “My old lair from our school days.”

 _Now_ his interest was really piqued. Eyebrows raised and hands clasped behind his back, he began a leisurely stroll around the room to more thoroughly inspect his surroundings.

A dry erase board had NIGHTMARE MONSTER scrawled at the top. Below was the plan:

_Step One: Summon._

_Step Two: Send to Alfea to attack 4/5 of the Winx girls._

_Step Three: Once everyone but Bloom is drained, show up and finish this._

To the side, a crystallized magnet held up a page from a spell book, listing the ingredients needed to conjure this particular creature. At the bottom, Icy's commentary simply read:  _Cute._

A cork board appeared to be filling the role of aesthetic sounding board. A diagram of the cafeteria was lined up with a sketch of the changes Icy would make once she was in charge. Darcy and Stormy had pinned their remodeling ideas for all three schools and the city of Magix in general; Icy had responded in one of three ways: the idea either received a sticky note with conditional acceptance, or it got a checkmark in the corner or the word VETOED scrawled overtop it. There was a poll titled WHAT TO DO WITH GRIFFIN, the least offensive idea being what was happening right now—sticking her in the dungeons—and _yeah_ , he was certain Griffin did not know about this.

When he turned toward the center of the room once more, he saw Darcy had situated herself near her coven leader on the carpet. The two were examining a different photo and laughing while Stormy was wandering the perimeter, drunkenly attempting to transfigure a voodoo doll so it resembled the musical fairy.

Valtor didn’t feel threatened, so he decided to test the waters: he crouched down where he was at and reached for the nearest grouping of loose-leaf papers. There were five in the set, and as he skimmed each one, he felt himself well up with more admiration than he knew he could feel for another person.

“You did all this when you were eighteen?” he asked incredulously.

Icy crawled toward him (whatever aftershave that _man_ used was quickly becoming his least favorite scent in the realm, thank you very much) and examined what he was looking at. “Actually, I was fifteen for that one. Eighteen is over there." She pointed to the corner of the room where Stormy was now gleefully stabbing her Musa doll. “Fifteen was mostly groundwork.”

Valtor did the math and his eyes widened. “You’ve been at this since you were a freshman?”

“And that isn’t even the reason Griffin expelled us,” Darcy bragged.

Icy lightly touched her arm and the dark-haired woman promptly backed down.

“Wait, she _expelled_ you?” Valtor had assumed… What _had_ he assumed? He’d definitely assumed they all graduated before the illegal antics started up. And to hear Griffin had expelled quite literally the best witch he had ever met… Well. He wasn’t exactly sorry she was no longer working alongside him. Twenty bucks said that one was Faragonda’s doing, too.

Icy’s expression told him he was following the script. “My sisters failed to expand upon just _how_ those Winx girls were responsible for our Omega sentence. We did help the Lord of the Under Realm open the gate to Realix, this is true. But before that, we stole the Dragon Fire and raised the Army of Decay.”

Valtor’s jaw actually dropped. If he was stupid, he might have accused her of lying. But the pride that radiated off her as she made this statement, plus the very lair they were sitting in, was all the proof he needed: she was serious.

He needed to sit down. He moved closer to her and did just that before asking, totally awestruck, “How in the name of the Ancestresses did you manage that?”

Immediately, Darcy stood. “Well, Stormy. I think it’s time to turn in for the night.”

The drunken storm witch allowed her sister to lead her toward the exit as she cackled, “Sweet dreams, Musa.”

Icy smiled at her hands as her sisters left, as Valtor’s eyes appraised her. Once the telltale _click!_ of the dorm door sounded, she launched into the most impressive story Valtor had ever heard in his life: a story of dedication and deceit, of evil and mayhem, of the rise and reluctant fall of the queen this wretched realm deserved. He especially enjoyed hearing how she had gotten back at Griffin for exiling her; _that_ he would’ve paid to see.

“Wait, so—you’re practically an expert at transformation spells,” he realized when they got into the logistics of the time Icy turned the transmagic girl into a pumpkin. At some point he had removed his jacket, laid it down between them, made himself comfortable. He loved mental stimulation and it didn’t get much better than listening to Icy talk about her glory days.

“Top of the class,” she said through a vaguely patronizing smile. Then she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Told ya I could’ve helped.”

He was sure the expression on his face made him look like a guilty mermaid minion out of water, but he could think of no response besides _Sorry I’m an idiot_ , which he was decidedly not saying out loud.

In a rare display of mercy, she didn’t make him come up with something; she kept talking like that little bump hadn’t happened. “I also played this wicked trick on Bloom last year. See, after I’d been expelled, she ran into Princess Diaspro at Red Fountain during The Day of the Royals and accused her of being me. That led to the big spectacle that had her running back to Earth and right into our clutches.” She cackled delightedly at this memory. “It was all over the chat rooms, people comparing pictures of me and the _handsome prince’s_ fiancée…

“So last year when we went to steal Red Fountain’s piece of the Codex, we needed disguises. We had to look like _harmless fairies_ come to pay our respects at the grand reopening of the very school we destroyed. So, I based my look off Diaspro: I was a pale blonde pixie with her hair down… And when Bloom talked to me, she didn’t suspect a thing.”

There was something about being in Icy’s presence when she was talking about herself, about her accomplishments, the things she was proud of in her life. He felt privileged that she wanted to share these things with him, but more than that, it was _energizing_ to listen to her tales of success. Inexplicably, his admiration for her grew even more.

“That’s brilliant,” he said as they laughed together.

“Underestimating me will be the death of that loser. Of _course_ if I was trying to blend in for a mission, I wouldn’t pick a fight with her. But…” She shrugged with faux nonchalance then pointedly locked her eyes on his. “Some people just have to learn the hard way. Ya know?”

There was something very special about this moment, where a female half his age was gloating about the hell she had put him through all day and all he could do was admire her for it. He had meant it when he decided if this was his punishment, he would take it so long as she came back. And… he couldn’t even say he hated taking it.

His countenance was a vague, conceding, sarcastic smirk as he tapped his index finger on some papers and they engaged in a staredown for a good twenty seconds. At last, he softly said, “But of course.” He held his hand out to the left and teleported some papers from sophomore year into his grasp. “Tell me about this plan.”

And that was how it went: the two night owls (yes, he learned it was a shared trait—she frequently pulled all-nighters during her CT years, not for studying but for plotting purposes) talked and talked and talked into the wee hours of the morning, the flow of their conversation the most natural thing in the world. Valtor learned what she was like in high school, how strong her bond with her coven sisters truly was (even the original coven had never _transformed themselves into one person to fight the Shadow Phoenix_ ), her style when it came to inter-world domination… Everything he learned further solidified how thankful he was she had come home and filled him with excitement for what their future held.

When she told him about Darkar, it started to make sense, her expectation this would all crash and burn in the end. He wished he could meet this so-called Lord of the Under Realm and have a few choice words with him. He hadn’t known he could harbor so much hatred for someone he had never met, but he _hated_ this guy. Sure, Valtor hadn’t always behaved in the most diplomatic way, but Skeleton Satan had taken disrespecting Icy and her coven to a disgusting new level. He vowed from that moment forward, he would never give any of them a reason to doubt their decision to team up with him ever again.

Mostly, though, their conversation focused on her quest to obtaining the Dragon Fire and what had followed once she succeeded. Valtor asked questions, and Icy welcomed them. He asked her to elaborate on specific plans or strategies she’d enacted at particular times, and she did so gladly. Sometimes her answers weren’t what he was expecting. He loved hearing how her brain worked, and he especially loved that she could surprise him.

It was during a pause in her explanation of what the rest of Magix would’ve looked like had she won that he shook his head and said, “Well, damn. If you came this close to having the entire universe under your thumb, why am I in charge?”

“Because I’ve been letting you,” Icy quipped. She observed the little smirk and eye roll this elicited from him before she added, “I think it’s about time for this to turn into a co-captain situation, though. Dontcha think?”

It was cute: she actually made it sound like a suggestion.

He motioned to her brilliance surrounding them and said, “Couldn’t agree more.” If the past twenty-four hours had shown him anything, it was that he was absolutely in no position to be telling her what to do. Plus… the idea of being equal partners with her, of making decisions _together_ every step of the way just felt _right_.

For a moment they smiled at each other.

And then suddenly she gasped. “Wait a minute! What is this!”

“What is what?”

“How long have we been in here?”

“Uh…” Valtor cast a spell to check outside, get a glimpse of the sky. “Four hours, maybe four and a half. Why do you ask?”

Icy feigned shock. “We’ve been talking for _four hours_ and you’re _enjoying_ yourself? Even with all my _negative energy_?”

It had to be somewhere around five in the morning. He was exhausted and more alive than he’d ever been all at the same time. And the past few hours were the most he had ever spoken to one person in one sitting. She had dangled the issue in front of him earlier, but now she was finally broaching it head-on. And she didn’t even seem mad about it; a teasing smile covered her face as she waited for him to play his hand.

But he realized even if she wasn’t going to demand one, he owed her an apology… of sorts.

He fumbled with the sleeves of his jacket and feebly said, “You know I was just messing with you, right? With that comment, and the—” He tried not to cringe as he raised his eyes to meet hers and was hit with the memory of that burning pile of cloth in her bedroom. “The clothes?”

Icy gave a seemingly innocent but obviously calculated shrug and returned to her papers. “If I’m honest, I always pictured the day you finally took off my clothes would be a lot more physical, but…” She heaved a sigh and looked him dead in the eye. “I did say you’d disappoint me eventually, right?”

Valtor’s brain lit up and died all at once. _You devious witch._ That was all he had time to think before her statement brought forth all the images he should not have been having right now, all the images _she wanted him to be having_. He stared and stared and stared at the woman before him, wanting her in every way he knew how.

And then he dropped all pretense of pride and said, “I fucked up.”

“You fucked up,” Icy agreed, and it sounded like forgiveness. “But it certainly made the day interesting. It will _never_ happen again,” she emphasized, “but… at least you didn’t bore me.” She gave him the smallest, cutest smile that someone as evil as her should not have been capable of producing.

 _I love you._ He felt it in his bones, stronger than anything he had ever felt in his life. Now was not the time to announce it—one step at a time here, they certainly had a way to go until he would even consider she may be willing to hear such a thing—but in that moment, he allowed himself to feel it fully. And immediately, he wished he had let himself feel it from the very beginning. Because it felt fucking fantastic.

He settled for—in one swift motion—picking up his coat and draping it over her shoulders. He was sure she wasn’t uncomfortably cold, but he wanted to do it, and as a bonus: it would erase any evidence of Darko.

She appeared caught off guard for a brief moment, but then she made a contented humming sound and smiled.

They spent the rest of the dawn-turned-morning bouncing ideas off of each other, revamping the current game plan by incorporating some of her strategies from high school, creating specific plays so each person in their team of four would be able to utilize their individual and group strengths…

Their own personal storm had passed; the universe’s had just been born.


End file.
